By Myself
by TheUnaccomplishedWriter
Summary: He's all packed. He's got his ticket. He's got a place lined up to stay. He's more than ready to leave. Now all he has to do is get on that plane. Problem is that it's ever so slightly delayed. Stuck in an airport in the middle of the night, Lance wanders round, taking in his final look of the sights and animals that make up this country. But will a last phone call change his mind?


**This is my contribution to Sing Mini Bang that happened on Tumblr. I would like to give a massive thank you to Skulpin for doing the artwork and of course thank you to Sing Mini Bang for organising this event! It has been an absolute pleasure writing this short one shot and I hope you enjoy it very much. Please don't forget to to comment, favourite and follow me for more fanfiction! I will respond to any and all comments and questions that you have on this fic.**

 **Thank you all once again and please enjoy! Also, once again, Sing is owned by Illumination Entertainment and I own none of their characters. I only own my OCs.**

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It's a strange thing; an airport in the small hours of the morning. If you stop to think about it, we all have the same sort of preconceived notions of what an airport is like, even if you've never been to one.

The frantic dashers hurrying over to the checkout desk before being told they were seconds too late; the complaints of being stuck too long in the queue for security; the half-muttered swears as the metal detectors bleeps; the mutual discomfort of the security pat down, the inevitable item you left in your bag being flagged up and having to route through delicate packing to bring out the most innocuous item.

Then, after all that effort, you're waved through without a word and you're left with the nigh impossible task of repacking your previously impeccably packed bag into some semblance of order. All this while an animal with bags under her eyes and uniform straining against her ever expanding paunch, glowers at you as the queue of irritated animals grows ever larger behind your overpacked suitcase lid.

The groans, moans, screeches and squeaks are all expected, all part of the experience as much as whining children and terrible airline food. It's almost half the reason you go, just to complain about it afterwards to your friends, all of whom gives knowing nods of agreeance.

Yet once the sun dips over the horizon, all the frenzied activity slows to a lethargic crawl. Gone are the throngs of animals heading off in all directions for flights, all hopeful and excited. In their place comes the bleary-eyed and weary passengers who mill around the near empty airport, making the most of the cheaper fares and below average vending machine teas. The legions of alert and helpful staff shepherding them to their correct destinations are by undervalued and underpaid staff of nocturnal and diurnal bent who put more effort into finding a quiet corner to kip in than assisting their exhausted travellers.

Sitting in one of the airport's many near identical waiting room, Lance drummed his digits against his knees as he attempted in vain to get himself comfy in his chair. Lance sat perched on the metallic edge of the fabric backed chair, his paw brushing his back occasionally, making sure he hadn't in-avertedly skewered the chair's mauve fabric.

Readjusting himself for the umpteenth time, Lance glanced over at the departure board to once again verify what he already knew. Flight MK 5876 to Anopolis International Airport was delayed. Lance groaned before resumed his knee drumming with renewed fervour.

Six hours.

Six bloody hours of hanging in limbo.

The plane had arrived on time, the luggage carefully thrown on, the crew having filed past him and down the walkway in their pristine uniforms. All seemed to be going like clockwork. But then the soulless sounding tannoy bonged tunelessly before the lady announcer, speaking as if she had all emotions forcibly removed from her very being, informed the animals of Flight MK 5876 that there would be a delay due a 'technical issue'. Even Lance, for all lack of flying, knew that that was the international code for 'we have no clue but don't panic, we'll figure it out… we hope'.

That was at twenty past seven. It was now verging towards half past one.

"Bloody airports," Lance grumbled, his uncomfortable seating arrangements not helping his mood in the slightest. "Get you all worried about arriving on time, make you go through all the palaver of security and rushing you to your gate only to keep you hanging round like you're on the dole."

Looking round the sparsely populated waiting room, Lance saw that he, along with the two flamingo flight attendants manning the gate, were the only animals still awake. The rest had wisely decided to collectively nod off than torture themselves with the arduous task of consciously waiting for their flight. One of those who had taken the slumbering route was a particularly large grizzly bear in a two sizes too small t-shirt who decided at that very moment to start snoring right down Lance's ear.

Taking that as his cue, Lance grabbed his carry-on bag and made his way out of the waiting area, to both escape the deafening noise and to let the blood return to his pained legs.

Exiting the waiting area, Lance found himself amongst the mostly shut shops, with only Veggie King soldiering through the wee hours, the chimp cashier slumped against the counter while his squirrel co-worker slept in the crook of his folded arm.

Passing the shuttered shops, Lance peered into their darkened interiors, their wares on display as if to tease low minded animals to take a crack at stealing them while a CCTV camera watched voyeuristically from a near hidden corner.

"Then again," Lance thought, "with the prices they charge it might be worth nicking a magazine or two."

Looking back at the magazines and newspapers however, emblazoned with vapid or hateful headlines, Lance resisted the urge to shoplift. It was the usual dross anyway. Sensationalist newspapers telling you to fear their immigrant neighbours, gaudy magazines shaming women into being another dress size smaller, or dirty magazines showing off a sow's breasts as if she were a piece of meat while simultaneously shaming her for apparent slutty behaviour. Pushing himself away from the shops, his stomach reminded him of a more pressing need, letting out a gargantuan gurgle.

"Oh yeah, guess I haven't eaten in a while," Lance thought, as he began to rummage around his pockets. After pulling out some loose coppers, paper receipts and a spare plectrum that he thought he had lost a month ago, a Gekko chocolate bar was finally prised from its Demin tomb. Unwrapping it and snapping the lizard shaped chocolate in two between his teeth, Lance savoured the taste while internally bemoaning the twenty-five pence price tag.

"25p for a Gekko? Jesus, what's the country coming to?" Lance moaned before shoving the other half of confectionary delight into his gob.

Pocketing the empty wrapper and swallowing the remnants of the chocolate, Lance resumed wandering before making his way over to the other near deserted waiting rooms. It took nearly ten minutes of aimless meandering before Lance saw something other than empty rooms and disaffected staff.

Idling up to the glass exterior of the waiting room, Lance looked over the artificially lit scene. Seated in slumbering tableaux; armadillos, crocodiles, deer, a lone squirrel, and a family of skunks were all in the collective land of nod. Some alone, some in clusters, some cutely cuddled together, some trying to rend themselves apart. Yet all slept on into the night, their consciousnesses on a joint voyage into timeless dreams.

All except one animal.

A lone hog remained conscious, his piglets all unconscious around him, having given up the ghost on trying to stay conscious any longer a long time ago. While the seven piglets remained lent against each other in an attempt to get some form of comfort, their middle-aged father's eyes remained wide open, transfixed on the delayed sign lit at the other end of the room. It was as he was in a trance. The snoring not putting him off. The unchanging sign not distracting him. The fact that a teenage porcupine openly staring at him not even registering with his internal parental sensors. The father's eyes remained transfixed as if, by sheer power of will, he could make his flight any less delayed than it already was.

"You can't change it," Lance tiredly yawned. "no matter how much you want it to." Lance shook his head, pushing the fatigue and thoughts back down as he left the waiting area, leaving the portly pig to keep his faithful watch.

After twenty more minutes of taking in all the same sterile scenes, Lance turned a corner and slammed his knee right into a metal chair.

"Goddammit," Lance grumbled, nursing his bruised knee. Looking up, Lance saw the distinctive Crocsta Coffee logo, the bold, pure white letters standing in stark contrast to the storefront's green scale façade.

The regular staff had clearly decided not to bother about cleaning up at the end of their shift and it didn't seem that the night staff were particularly fussed about turning up to work if the unlit shop interior was anything to go by.

Coffee cups were dotted around like the dead animals on a battlefield, each one having either lost too much fluid or had succumbed to terrible effects of hypothermia. Even their confectionary comrades in arms had suffered similar fates, their plastic wrappings being shredded to bits, with scattered crumbs being the only other indication of their existence.

Manoeuvring his way around the wobbly metal tables and chairs to one of the few clean tables, Lance dumped his bag onto vacant chair beside him, the faux leather suitcase landing with a loud thud.

"The hell's that thing still together?" Lance thought, giving his weathered and weary suitcase a cursory glance. He'd had it since God knows when. He remembered having it as a young porcupette, the suitcase stashed under his bed for toys to be crammed in when he was told to tidy his room. Then it was used to put music sheets. Songs, albums, and entire discographies had gone in and out of that suitcase as they went from unknown, to learning, to committed to memory and discarded. It had been used for holidays, as an emergency school bag, occasional weapon against bullies, and sturdy seat on packed buses and trains.

And now it contained his life, or at least, the bits he wanted to take. Looking at the case, the years etched on it from its worn handles, frayed straps and peeling stickers, Lance couldn't help but give a wry smile at how this bit of luggage had managed to stay with him all his life.

"It's probably older than me," Lance thought, a soft chuckle tickling his throat. "Certainly been around all my life. Which is more than can be said for some…"

Quickly, Lance aggressively shook his head, as if the very action could avert his mind from wandering down that particular mental avenue.

"No more of that," Lance quietly berated himself, anger quickly flashing across his face as he tried to reign in his mind. Looking for a distraction, Lance squinted at a departures board in the distance, the word delayed in pale yellow letters just about visible to Lance's strained eyes.

Reaching into his pocket, Lance fished out his phone. Flipping open the old model, Lance quickly read over the time. Twenty past two. Shutting the phone with a firm click Lance let out a weary sigh, repocketed it without a word.

"Not even worth moaning about now," Lance mused as he made himself comfortable.

"Maybe I can rest my eyes," Lance reasoned as his eyes began to droop. "Just for five minutes."

Closing his eyes closing and letting his mind shut down, Lance was ready to not think for a few minutes. He needed a fresh start. A new beginning. A new story. A better story. A story without-

The sudden chiming of his phone put a halt to all those thoughts as Lance's eyes shot open angrily.

"The hell?" Lance said angrily, thrusting his paw into his jeans pocket. "I thought I blocked everyone already?"

Flipping the phone open and ringing his phone to his face in one fluid motion, Lance's thumb was poised to smash the decline button with all his might. However, his eyes had other ideas, catching a glimpse of the caller ID, causing his brain to halt his thumb mere millimetres from cancel button.

Staring at the phone's screen, Lance's read and re-read the name. His face swung between fury and joy like a pendulum, before settling on remorse.

"Goddammit," Lance thought, pressing the phone against his forehead. "I should have told her."

The phones' shrill ring kept sounding out, each trill becoming more and more urgent in Lance's ears.

"I'm going to regret this," Lance said, his heart winning over his head, as he shifted his thumb across to the green answer button, pressing it gently and raising the phone to his ear.

"Hey, what's up?" Lance said with forced normalcy.

"Quilt?! That you?!" the voice asked urgently.

"Hey Slyv, and if you mean Lance, then yes this is he." Came Lance's slightly irritated reply.

"Quilt where the hell are you?!" Slyv roared down the phone. "I've been looking high and low for you! Been round your house, the Two Sticks, Live Nite, the Blue Shoe, Croc Rock, the Viper Underground, everywhere! Hell, I've even been to Old Drummond's place and even he's worried! And this is from the guy who still hasn't forgiven you after the whole pineapple incident! I knew you were probably gonna be a no show at the ceremony but I never thought you'd skip on gig! I've missed Sarlon Moseby because of you, y'know? The Sarlon Moseby! You'd better have a good reasoning for making me worry sick and make me miss out on seeing him! The tickets cost an arm and leg. Yours if I have my way! I've been seriously pulling out my fur and you know how much I love my fur! So I'll say again, the hell are you Quilt?!"

"Okay, first off," Lance said calmly after he was sure Slyv had quite finished. "you went round everywhere we go but you didn't think to ringing me till gone two o'clock in the morning?"

"I've been worried!" Slyv barked down the phone. "You know I don't deal with stress well and you disappearing into thin air has had me _very_ stressed. Besides, your phone is like a million years old-"

"It's like six years old!" Lance interrupted defensively.

"A million years old!" Slyv reaffirmed. "God knows why you haven't just upgraded like a normal animal. Doesn't keep battery, only texts when it wants to, cuts out on calls or just flat out doesn't receive them! I'm surprised I've managed to get you to be honest. I was expecting the usual static or just flatlining boops."

"Alright you made your point Slyv! I'll get a new phone, okay!"

"About damn time Quilt." Slyv commented smugly. "I knew you'd come into the twenty-first century like the rest of us sooner or later."

"So, as I was saying," Lance commented loudly. "secondly can you please stop calling me Quilt? We're not six anymore," Lance said as he kneaded the bridge of his muzzle with his fingers. "My name is Lance. L-A-N-C-E. You know, medieval knights used them and all that? Thought even you could remember a name."

"Oh yeah, I remember your name _Lance_ ," Slyv said, Lance feeling the quotation marks she was giving down the line. "But anyway, I still prefer Quilt. It's _way_ cuter. And you are soft like a quilt and you're a big softie! Well, you used to be. But stop trying to distract me Quilt! Where are you?! I am freaking out here and you need to give me a hell of a good reason or I'm going to have to pull out your quills and make you into a life size voodoo doll!"

Lance winced at the thought, knowing that was not some sort of hypothetical threat. He still remembered the time when he faked a Hendrix autograph and she believed and told the whole school. The memory of her enraged eyes and grabbing paws yanking out his quills and skewering them back into him like he was some sort of a living shish kebab was seared in his mind in glorious technicolour.

"Alright, alright I'll tell you Slyv. Just don't be mad, okay?"

"Why would I be mad?" Slyv asked, her voice becoming worried very quickly. "What's happening?".

Lance breathed deeply, readying himself for the onslaught.

"I'm leaving Slyv."

"Wha-what d'you mean leaving?" came Slyv's puzzled reply.

"I mean I'm leaving. I've packed up and I'm going tonight."

The phone was silent for a second, the words hanging in the air, as Lance's mind just began to comprehend the finality of what he just said.

"This is it." Lance contemplated silently. "I'm actually going. And I'm not coming back. Ever. I mean, I'm actually going. It's not just a plan anymore, nothing just swirling round my head. I'm actually leaving. God, I can't believe it. A whole other continent. With no-one I know there. Not even Slyv. Is this okay? No, this is right. I need to do this. I have to go. I can't stay after-"

"You're leaving?" Slyv chimed in, taking Lance's attention away from those nagging thoughts. "You mean, you're leaving town?"

"I mean, yeah I am but-."

"Is that all?! God Quilt you were had me worried there! Finally putting the plan into action then? Heading down London way, are you?"

"Erm, not exact-".

"I thought it was just a pipe dream when you said you wanted to move away. I mean I completely understand why you'd want to. It's been crap. God knows it has. But most animals who say they're moving end up just going down the road or something. But you're actually doing it? You're actually leaving! I would say congratulations but did you have to do it on results day Quilt? I wanted photos of us together, going mental about our results and getting into our Uni's after seventeen hours on the phone with UCAS."

"Slyv." Lance said, vainly attempting to shoehorn himself into the increasingly one-sided conversation.

"And then the gig! You know I've been looking forward to that for ages! And you pull your own great escape now?! Seriously Quilt, sometimes I don't know what to do with you, you scruffy urchin. I mean you living down in London, eh? God, you're going to have such a great time down there. They may even like those two quills you keep putting in your shirts for God knows what reason I know it's meant to be punk or whatever but it seriously doesn't suit you. You look like a wannabe."

"Slyv."

"But hey, since you're in London I'll be able to come down and visit. I mean it's only two hours on the train so I can crash with you right? I'm sure you'll have space for little old me and my bushy tail. You have got a place set up, haven't you? Or are you going to be bumming round a few hostels first?"

"Slyv, listen."

"If you got somewhere to crash yet I've got an uncle down there if you like. Well, a sort of uncle. I think he was my neighbour when I was nine or something and he helped my dad move some furniture or something. You know, one of those uncles."

"Slyv, just stop a se-"

"Anyway, he's super nice and I'm sure he'd be willing to put you up for a few weeks. And I know what you're thinking but you wouldn't be in the way."

"Just wai-"

"I know London placed are a bit cramped but the guy's a polar bear. You'd be able to roll on the sofa bed for days before you came within touching distance of the edge. It'll be perfect for you! God, I'm almost jealous of you! You're gonna have a gr-"

"SLYVIA!" Lance bellowed down the phone, spittle speckling the receiver.

"Alright, alright, geez. No need to blow out my eardrums Quilt."

"Sorry Slyv, it's just you weren't listening to me. Again."

"Alright, I'm sorry my prickly porcupine. So, what do you want to tell me then? Must be pretty serious if you're calling me by my full first name."

Lance took a deep breath.

"I'm not-"

"You do know only you and my mum do that, right? It's weird. At least you don't do the whole full name thing. I know I'm in proper trouble when I hear my mum yell my name like blue bloody murder."

"Slyv," Lance groaned in irritation. "You were listening. Remember? Not a few moments ago? D'you mind doing that again for maybe a few fractions of a second more?"

"Sorry Quilt. I'll shut up now. What did you want to say?"

"Thank you. Anyway-"

"Oh my God, you're not gonna do one of those emotional goodbyes, are you Quilt?"

"What? No! Just listen for a mi-"

"You know I'll cry if you do and you do not want me when I'm all weepy."

"Slyv, for God's sake just listen-"

"I know it's only down south but and you're not that far away but if you make me weep up I'm coming straight down there to wipe my tears on you before dragging your prickly butt back-"

"I'M GOING TO AMERICA SLYVIA!"

The phone suddenly went scarily quiet. Gone was Slyv's chirpy yet incessant voice, being replaced by sheer nothingness. No comments, no laughter, not even breathing. It was as if Lance's words had erased her from existence.

"Slyv, you there?" Lance said tentatively, hoping for some semblance of a response.

Nothing.

"Slyv, you alright?"

Still nothing.

"C'mon Slyv, you're freaking me out now."

The phone remained deathly silent.

"It's not that big of a deal Slyv," Lance began to reason, already knowing he was clutching at straws. "It's not as if I'm going to the moon or anything. I can still call you and stuff. It's just I, I need to get out of here. London isn't far enough. Hell, Europe isn't far enough. I just need to make a clean break of things, you know?"

Hearing no change down the line, Lance decided to change tact.

"I've thought this through. I can get by on the money I have for now until I get my own place and the Uni was very understanding. I sorted it out a few days ago. Sorry Slyv. I know you were looking forward to getting our results together, but I needed mine early so I managed to pull a few strings since, you know, I did quite well and all. And it's not as if I've thrown everything away or anything. I just need time. They said they'll hold my place as long as I want it so-"

"How long?" came Slyv's curt, emotionless reply.

"How long what?"

"How long have you had this planned?"

Lance gulped, his throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper.

"A year or a year and a half. Probably, probably just over year and a half now."

"A year and a half." Slyv said, letting the comment hang as if it were on the gallows for the public to see and lob rotten tomatoes at.

"A year and a half," Slyv finally restated. "and you didn't tell me? Not once? Me. Your best friend. I've stuck with you through thick and thin, you know? We've done so much together Quilt. Hell, I can barely remember a time before you turned up. And now what? You're leaving just like that? Without even telling me? Not even a text. You were just gonna up and go and leave me without a word? The hell Quilt! Do I mean nothing to you?!"

The guilt was seeping into Lance's bones. He knew it would eventually, just perhaps not like this. He knew he should have told Slyv his plan, that she would have understood, or at least not stopped him. But her finding out like this? Hurting her like this? That had never been part of the plan.

"Slyv, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?! Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it! You were just gonna ship out and not say goodbye or anything. Not a word. And go to America? Where the hell you gonna go in America? Do you even know anyone in America?"

"Well, I mean sort of. I've never met them but I've got some animals who'll lend me a hand for a little while at least. You know, out of obligation."

"Oh, I see," Slyv said, the anger still lingering in her voice. "So that's it, huh? You're just dropping everything here like a hot plate then?! Leave everything here behind and just rock up to these animal's place out of nowhere and-"

"I'm not rocking up out of nowhere." Lance countered, trying to assuage Slyv's anger with some reason. "I managed to get in touch with them. Found some old contact info and one worked. They weren't too happy but I guess they felt somewhat compelled to help me. Even if it's just for a little while."

"Yeah but that's not gonna last forever and you know it! What happens when their hospitality withers up? Who are you gonna turn to then? Do you even know anyone else out there?"

"No, I don't." Lance replied, a note of conviction in his voice. "I'll be a complete unknown. Just another guy out there and not someone to speak in hushed voices about. If I stay here, or anywhere in the UK, something or someone will remind me. I'll see something, or hear something, or go somewhere and it'll remind me. Remind me what happened and it'll be real all over again. And I just, I just can't deal with that anymore. I just need to get away, at least for now."

"But how long's for now?" Slyv asked, a note of panic entering her voice. "A year? Two? Ten? Your whole life? Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course, Slyv. I'm not gonna stop seeing you. Hell, I'll even get a new phone so I can FaceTime with you or something. You're probably the only animal that I want to keep in touch with."

"But not an animal that can make you stay?"

Lance remained silent for a moment, letting her words wash over him. The guilt making itself known anew.

"Should I do this?" Lance thought. "I mean, I can go back now. There's nothing stopping me. Well my bags are on the plane but I'm sure another delay to get them back won't be too much of a problem. Hell, even if they go to America and get flown back I can just collect them another time and pay whatever fine I need to. But nothing would change though. I need to get away. To strive out on my own. Don't I?"

"Quilt," she pleaded, oblivious to Lance's internal argument. "you'll know no-one there. You'll be all on your own. Is that what you want? I, I know you're hurting right now, and I know you don't want to hear this, but d'you think running away is going to change things? You've got a life here. You've got friends here. You've got-"

Lance's grip on the phone tightened as his whole body tensed up, his second thoughts evaporating in an instant.

"Go on. What have I got?" Lance growled down the phone.

"I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"That's right! You shouldn't have!" Lance said, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "She promised me! She promised me that she wouldn't! And I believed her. I believed her with all my heart. All my stupid, _stupid_ heart."

Lance was physically shaking now. If animals had passed him by they would have thought he was on the verge of a fit. But there were none around to see the emotions running rampant throughout his body.

"She couldn't keep her damn word! She… she couldn't keep her promise," Lance said, his voice and body suddenly deflated. "I... I did everything for her. To make her proud. To show her it was all worth it."

"She was proud Quilt. She was so, so proud."

"Clearly not proud enough."

"Don't you say that Quilt!" Slyv exclaimed, the sobs catching in her throat. "Don't you ever dare say that!"

There was a brief moment of silence. The die was in Lance's paw and he knew it. He could clench his paw, keep himself from making that choice. Turn back and return to the life that was his.

"What she did, that wasn't her. I, I refuse to believe that was her. She wouldn't have done that unless something went wrong. Really wrong. She wasn't well Quilt. God knows you knew that better than anyone."

His grip on his mental die tightened, his mind still a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"She lied to me Slyv." Lance replied, his voice betraying the inner turmoil within him. "She… she promised that she would tell me if something was wrong. She'd be on the phone as soon as possible. That she'd get the bus all the way down to see me if necessary. But she didn't."

The tears were welling up now, yet then damn refused to break. Lance couldn't let it, wouldn't let it. But the words kept flowing on, as his mind tried valiantly to repress his hurt.

"What did I do wrong? Was I not enough? Did she not remember me? Remember the good times? Was I just another nameless animal to her? One of her nightmares? Did, did I matter at all?"

Lance's mental grip loosened. The die beginning to roll free in his paw, its corners starting to turn against his fur.

"You know the last time I saw her she promised me. She looked me right in the eyes, promised and hugged me so tight it felt like the earth had stopped spinning, even if it was just for the briefest of seconds. She held me and promised to never let go. But she did. She let go and left me here alone."

"That's not-"

Booming over Slyv's reply, a loud announcement resounded through the airport, shaking its residents out of their early morning slumber.

"We apologise for the delay. Flight MK 5876 to Anopolis is ready to board. All passengers please make your way to the departure gate for Flight MK 5876 to Anopolis."

"-will be there for you."

Lance thought a moment, the die still in his tenuous grasp. He could ask her to repeat what she said. Get the final emotional appeal from the one animal that could convince him to stay. Have it all laid bare before him so that he would pause for a moment and think, before turning on his heel and facing his world instead of fleeing from its presence. The door remained open, its light shining upon Lance.

"All passengers for Flight MK 5876 to Anopolis, please make your way to the departure gate as the flight is preparing to leave."

The monotone voice cut through the illusion, the door vanishing from his mind's eye. Clenching his hand once more, his grip softened, and a small crash reverberated around his mind as the die cast ripples, turning to tsunamis within him.

"Quilt? You still there?" came Slyv's voice, catching on raw, unfettered emotion.

Lance took a moment, staring down at the where the die had landed, before he responded.

"Yeah, I'm here Slyv. Just, thank you. For everything. You've made everything bearable and you're still my best friend. Hell, you're practically family. But, this… this is just something I need do. I wish you could come with me, but you've got your own glorious life to live. Me on the other hand, I've got to do this by myself.

Lance sighed as he picked up his suitcase and started heading out of the Crocsta and towards the gate.

"Have a great life Slyv. See you around."

"Quilt, wait-"

And with that Lance cut off the call.

Staring down at the phone, Lance made his way over to a bin. Stopping a few steps away from it, Lance gave his phone one last look. He'd had this phone for so long. It was still his first phone. The one she had given him.

His face suddenly becoming determined, he dropped the phone to the ground. It only had chance to bounce once before a heavy-footed stomp slammed it to the floor, the forced impact, crunching its frame into the polished floor, sending tiny shards of plastic and electronics sent skittering away from the epicentre of the carnage.

Picking up the main part of the carcass, Lance tossed it in the bin, his last contact with his old life well and truly gone. Adjusting his grip on his suitcase, Lance made his way back to the gate.

Upon his return, Lance quickly saw that he was clearly the last animal left to board, the two flamingos clearly irritated at having to wait even longer than absolutely necessary.

"Oi!" one called, pointed is feathery finger in his direction. "You getting on this flight or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming now." Lance said, walking over to them. After a quick once over of his passport and boarding pass, Lance was let through as the flamingos quickly shut up shop at the gate.

Walking along the walkway towards the plane, Lance stopped but a moment. Looking out the plastic windows, across at the airport, Lance was struck by the thought that this was it. The last time he'd see this place. These animals. This world was ending and he was entering a new one. Alone.

"It's fine," Lance said determinedly. "I don't need anyone else. Not anymore. I'll do this by myself."

Looking up, Lance breathed in deeply before stepping forward towards his unknown future.

After getting himself comfy in his seat as the plane began to taxi onto the runway, Lance closed his eyes. He felt the rumble, the tilt and then the nothingness below him.

"And so it begins," Lance thought, his mind drifting as he let sleep take him, with dreams of success and fortune filtering into his brain as he soared into his unwritten future.


End file.
